Entangled grape vines lined the entrance to their eternity. I had visited Areus Inn earlier in the day, before the wine tasting and lunch and the peak of the heat. We hung paper lanterns over the bar and strung tiny lights through the trees and filled glass vases with dried lavender, the bride, her sister, and I. I wasn't entirely needed, but desperately needed to be present and useful. In the morning, the empty hills seemed peaceful, like the pause between preparation and final action. Like the time between doings when we just seem to be. Now, 5 pm and five wineries in, the crowd of people pulsed with excitement and anticipation. The doing time had come.
I saw the groom briefly to hand off the Okanagan ice wine, carefully transported across the border and passed along a relay line of hands. Without it, my hands were empty. The bride, of course, hid inside until her moment. We milled about until finally, every person in place, we sat beneath the sun with shining faces and fidgeting hands. We, the audience of their affection, watched the bride walk the grassy aisle toward her bearded beloved.
Oh, how we ladies love those bearded men.
Like two pillars, the pastor said, they stood apart. I liked that. I liked the wheat field altar and the church of rolling hills, and the sanctity of the sun. After the simple ceremony, we stood under the light-strung trees, sipping Mountain Dome brut, or Argyle if we were lucky enough to be in the bridal party, waiting until the shade crept over our tables before sitting down to dinner. Once tucked into our meal, the wine kept pace with the plates.
The Okanagan ice wine proved a perfect complement to the wedding cake, certainly the best I've ever tasted. Satiated, we let the sun set behind our backs, we allowed the light to slip between the leaves, beam briefly between the tree trunks and disappear.
I had come to Walla Walla for their wedding, but a little wine tasting proved the perfect side dish to the weekend entree. Bugs and I visited once before, quite the to-do two months back. We stayed at Girasol Inn where the breakfasts were large and the beds soft, perfect complements to a whirlwind wine tour. Budget Inn was more my speed for this solo venture. Poor bugs had to slave away at the same wine shop that employs the groom.
Back then, the highlights of our stay were Abeja, Buty and Waters. Waters winery is an essential stop when visiting Walla Walla, and I'm always surprised how few people in Seattle are familiar with it. For this second trip, I joined forces with someone a little more capable of driving than myself. Revisiting Waters was a must, and I was blown away by their Loess. At Northstar, we agreed on the Columbia Valley Merlot as a favorite, though it was the cheapest of the three Merlots offered and grown in the least prestigious vineyards. One more winery, my companion said, and then he said it again. Time ticked toward the ceremony, and my planned hour to "do myself up" was whittling down to 15 or 20 minutes. But Tru was worth it.
Tucked away downtown, the odd little tasting room occupies the back of a retail store, the entire set-up clearly aimed at ladies such as myself. Chunky, candy-colored belts dressed up displays and draping dresses lined the racks. I was impressed with the selection of clothing, clearly chosen with a playful attitude. And what better companions to a shopping spree than blanc de blanc, viognier and gewurztraminer? The bubbly lit up my mouth with a shower of fine, delicate bubbles, and tasted deliciously of green apples, but I thought it was overpriced at around $35. The frangrantly floral viognier was a steal, and I snatched up a bottle along with the gewurz. Undecided if I liked it or not, I couldn't deny that it was interesting. Really, it was weird as shit, with a petroleum nose and palate that wasn't sweet in the least. I needed to give it a second, more focused tasting.
Later, back in the fields, after dark set in and the elders went to bed, a live band set up by the pool and the newly weds danced to Red Red Wine. While some joined them, others stripped off their finery to dive in. Such a relief, after the hot dry day, the hours of drinking and social pleasantry. They baptized themselves in youth and abandon. Emerging from the pool, shivering and wet, they just drank more wine for lack of a towel and danced and embraced people until the whole party was a little damp. The night nodded yes, and eventually even the bride soaked her polka dots and pearls.
The celebration continued long after I left. I think it's still going.
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